


UFO

by CurlyCue



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Other, a year and a half ago?, decided to upload it!, die mad about it lol, ehh, i wrote this like..., just edited it and made it better, listen i love the doctor AND the tardis they are babey, the character is just me but k, yes the 'you' character is named
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 20:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlyCue/pseuds/CurlyCue
Summary: In which you meet the doctor. You're not quite what he's expecting.





	UFO

“Who are you?” You ask in a hushed voice as soon as the two of you are tucked away in a little corner far enough away from the chaos to take a deep breath. In the face of your curiosity, the strange man's face absolutely lights up with a grin, like he'd been waiting for you to ask, which you find... strange, considering the circumstances. Its not as if there aren’t more important things to be asking about at the moment, like maybe the _aliens currently attacking the Earth._

“Well,” he starts, already sounding like he's rehearsed this a thousand times beforehand. It should be off-putting, to be quite honest, but his near-manic grin is sort of endearingly infectious. After a bit of peacocking, he clears his throat and announces, “I'm the Doctor!” After that, there’s a pause, and you look him pointedly, giving him a chance to elaborate. When it becomes clear that he isn’t going to give you a surname or anything, your suspicion and general confusion grow deeper. 

You lift an eyebrow and look him up and down twice, then once more to check his body language. He looks... infuriatingly and _worryingly_ casual for someone in the midst of what you can only presume to be an all-out alien invasion. 

“O... kay?” You reply after the awkward pause, wetting your lips and giving him an appraising look. “That’s cool, I guess. What... specifically are you a doctor of? Have you ever been to medical school, or is it like a PhD kind of thing?” 

The man-- this Doctor character, whoever he is-- looks taken aback for a moment, almost as if he doesn't expect anyone to have the audacity to question him, for whatever reason. (So sue you for breaking whatever script he’d written up in his mind, you guess?) Then, to your surprise, his expression morphs into one of interest-- a smaller, more genuine smile pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“Well, isn't that interesting," he murmurs to himself, just in time for a rather tremendous clang to echo his words from around the corner. Immediately, his expression falls into a deadly serious one that fits the lines of his face so well you can only imagine it’s his most common expression. With a quick motion in your peripheral vision, he startles you, taking your hand in a firm but gentle grip and whispering so fast you barely have time to process what he's saying. "Terribly sorry, we'll have to continue introductions later, but for now you'll have to come with me." 

"... What?" Incredulity colors your voice bright just as the newest object of your nightmares rounds the corner. 

"Run!" Is all the answer you get, a breathless command thrown over his shoulder, and with that, he turns and heads off, still holding your hand. 

Before his first step even meets the ground, you're on autopilot, hot on his heels, still hand in hand. As your brain catches up to your body, you grin, equal parts snark and terror, and remark, "Don't have to tell me twice!" 

\--

By the time your lungs are burning to the point of coughing, you've made it to what looks to be... a phone box, you think? With, uh, "POLICE" written all over it? You’re not certain, because you've never seen anything like it before, but when he swiftly moves to shove something from his pocket into the lock, you groan and start to grumble, even as you're doubled over and wheezing. 

"Oh, god, this cannot be legal. Please don't tell me I’m gonna become a criminal and get probed by aliens all in one day, for fuck's sake--" 

"Shh!" The Doctor hisses sharply from where he's still struggling to open the doors. A ways off, the sound of a life-form you would be perfectly content to never see again in your life are quickly coming closer than you’d like. "Come on, old girl," he mutters under his breath, and suddenly you think maybe you're just a bit mentally unsound for following a random man you found in the street just because there's an alien apocalypse going on. 

"Uh," you start, eloquently, about to ask how such a tiny wooden phone booth is supposed to help either of you with the current predicament, when suddenly you’re cut off by an _"Aha!"_ from the Doctor. As soon as the door unlatches, he turns and ushers you in with the urgency of someone who can visibly see impending doom making its way over, so without thinking, you allow yourself to be herded into what you assume will be a small, dark, and cramped space. 

Except-- except it’s not that. Not by a _long_ shot. And it takes a couple blinks for your eyes and suspension of disbelief to accommodate accordingly. The click of the door shutting behind you doesn't really register as you look around, mouth agape with wonder and quickly unfurling into a grin. _"Wow..."_

It's a breathless, thoughtless reaction, generated entirely by unbridled awe, and your careful, quiet footsteps echo the sentiment as you approach the center... console? At least, you _assume_ it’s a console, there are controls and levers all over it. Your hand trembles slightly as you lift it to stroke the rim of the nearest control set. 

_"You,"_ the words slip forth without your bidding them, your filter short-circuiting with all the new information to process and letting the clearest thought through. "You… are absolutely _gorgeous."_ The ship-- _it has to be a ship, why else would there be controls like this, and there are aliens everywhere so why wouldn't there be a spacecraft, and the Doctor had called her "old girl", so of course--_ oh. 

The Doctor. 

Of course, you'd forgotten. The ship hums, almost warmly, as if in response to your words, and your smile turns soft as you stroke the controls once more before turning away. Your eyes are wide as they sweep around to meet the gaze of the strange man who you now have cause to believe is an alien. Strangely, he has on an expression you can't quite place-- wonder? Fondness? Pain? Intrigue? Cynicism? There's just so much-- but you feel yourself break into a wild, genuine grin before you can even think about anything too much. 

“I think-- sorry,” you cut yourself off with a sudden laugh. “I think that, uh, those introductions are in order?” You offer, taking a few steps forward-- more certain and less reverent than before-- towards him, and you offer him an outstretched hand. 

“Yes.” The Doctor responds, dumbly at first, but then all at once, rapid-fire like he’s actually been dying to know. “Oh-- yes, introductions. Who are you?" Without hesitation, he accepts your hand, and you find that he gives a good handshake-- firm, but not overbearing; friendly, but confident, like he seems to be. Good: it's said you can tell a lot about someone from their handshake. 

"My name is Callin Lange," you happily oblige. "And I'm fairly certain you just saved my life by inviting me into a spaceship, so thank you. I mean, for the saving my life thing, obviously, but mostly for the spaceship thing, because I’ve _always_ wanted to see one. It’s interesting, actually, do you have some kind of... what is this? Something that compacts everything within it? No, wait, that would affect us too, and we would have presumably felt that-- is it a portal? Or, well, wormhole I guess is the technical term-- or maybe Einstein-Rosen bridge, if you want to get like really, _really_ technical-- or is it maybe a pocket dimension? OH! It's a pocket dimension, isn't it, I can see it on your face-- god, sorry, this is so much, I'm just so-- sorry, I'm just-- I can't-- there's just so much happening and it's so exciting." For several moments, you just _gush,_ your inner nerd absolutely breathless with questions and wonder. 

You don't really notice, but as you continue speaking, the Doctor's eyes gradually fill more and more-- for a while, he’s almost awestruck, and the main difference being the growing spark of curiosity, hope, and excitement is somewhat dampened by a slight wariness. 

"Yes. Yes, it's a pocket dimension," he replies with a voice somewhat distant and strained. Your eyes lose some of their spark when he grabs his... unknown whirring light-up tool(?) and points it at you, activating it. It’s surprisingly bright, pointed right in your face, and when he moves it up and down in front of the length of your body, you feel vaguely violated-- and you’ve never been quiet with your discomfort.

"Hey!" You exclaim, taking a step back and defensively crossing your arms over your chest, all charm dissipated in the face of the perceived threat. "What the hell do you think you're doing with that thing? … And what is it?" You finish lamely, rightfully wary. 

The Doctor blinks, somehow finding the gall to look just as indignant as you. "It's not just a _thing,_ it's my sonic screwdriver, thank you very much, and it's a very useful tool! I was just scanning you, no need to get so uppity." 

“There’s no way for me to know that,” you huff, then continue, slowly uncrossing your arms. “Scanning me for what?" You pry, electing to ignore his rather unbelievable course of actions and perspective. 

"Doesn't matter," he replies flippantly, almost absentmindedly, slipping the screwdriver into an internal coat pocket as he opens a small panel on the tool and quickly scans over the words, then turns back to you, seemingly satisfied. "You passed the test. Congratulations," he deadpans, then grins, stepping past you with the grace of someone who's walked these floors a million times. (And who knows? Maybe he has.) "But besides that, I've been quite rude! It's nice to meet you, Mx. Lange. Welcome to the TARDIS." The Doctor twirls around as he introduces the ship, stretching his arms outward, palms facing the ceiling. 

His charming demeanor has returned full force, but you’re not so easily swayed back into his good books. "... Is that an acronym, or just her name?" You ask after a moment’s hesitation, still wary of his strange antics, and he bites back a wince at himself. Of course he's gone and made a mess of things the moment someone comes around-- he really has been alone too long, hasn't he? 

When he replies, his voice is gentler than usual, or at least gentler than any of the other words he’s shared with you for the short while you've known him. "An acronym." 

"What's it stand for?" You ask immediately, wariness fading as you straighten yourself out, dusting off your jeans. It seems like he’s making an effort to play nice again, so you suppose you’ll take the high road for now and be civil. 

The Doctor smiles, looking upward the way people do when they're looking at the stars. "Time and Relative Dimension in Space." That brings a small huff of amusement from you, and he turns his head to look, gazing at you with his head still tilted back somewhat. "What?" He sounds almost indignant again, this time on behalf of his ship. 

"Well," you begin, looking up to meet his gaze, a sassy half smile pulling the corner of your mouth upward. "To start with, most acronyms don't include letters from words like 'and' or 'in'. Secondly, I have no idea what that 'Relative Dimension' thing is supposed to mean, so you'll have to maybe explain that to me a bit, as to what it's relative to-- and lastly, uh... ‘Time’, you said?" You finish, and suddenly, he’s smiling at you. It feels like every opportunity in the universe is opening up. 

“Yep. Any time, any place in the universe, at the very tips of my fingers. And yours too, if you care to join me," he adds casually, then extends his hand, side-eyeing you. He’s trying to seem like he doesn’t care much what your answer is, but you’ve always been fairly good at reading people, and when you meet his gaze, you can see those old, old, _old_ eyes just begging you to take him up on it. 

So, thinking about it for a moment, you smile and take a step forward to softly accept his outstretched hand. For the next few hours, you run around with the Doctor and help him solve the world's current most pressing problem: the alien invasion. It's the first one, as far as you're aware, but the Doctor assures you it is far, _far_ from it, and for some reason... the implication that this could become a regular occurrence for you is almost exciting.


End file.
